


Like a Punch to the Gut

by sherlockian4evr



Series: Getting It Together [21]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Brother Mycroft, Bisexual John Watson, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Light Angst, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft's Meddling, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: In a normal moment, just like many others at 221B, John looks over at Sherlock and realises that he's in love.





	1. Chapter 1

John exited the kitchen to find Sherlock engrossed in his composition. He had been working on it for days, playing short passages, then writing them down. It wasn't anything the doctor hadn't seen before, but it hit him like a punch to the gut.

All at once John realised, he loved Sherlock, totally and completely.

The doctor walked over and grabbed his coat, shrugging it on in a daze. "I'm going out," he told his flatmate without offering any explanation.

Sherlock didn't look up. He simply continued with his composition, offering a hum of acknowledgement.

John wandered aimlessly once he hit the pathway. He couldn't believe it had taken him so long to realise how he felt about his friend. It would have been better if he had never realised it, it wouldn't be welcome by his sentiment eschewing flatmate. The doctor sat heavily on a bench and stared off into space, thinking. When it started raining, cold and penetrating, John didn't move to find shelter.

The doctor had lost all track of time when a black sedan pulled up to the nearby kerb. He let out a long sigh. The last thing he wanted to put up with was Mycroft and his supercilious attitude. John heaved himself to his feet and walked over to the car. The driver had got out and was holding the door open for him, umbrella raised overhead.

John shrugged and got in the car, not caring that he dripped all over the upholstery. "Mycroft," he directed at the government official by way of hello.

Mycroft gave him his trademark non-smile as he tossed a towel to John. The doctor used it to dry his hair and soaked up the worst of the puddles that had collected on the leather of the seat.

Finally, John looked at Mycroft. "To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

The government official played with the handle of his brolly for a moment before answering. "I've had you under increased surveillance for quite some time, Doctor Watson." He noticed John's left hand clenching into a fist. "I won't apologise, Doctor. I've anticipated this day for quite some time." 

"You've anticipated... for some time... What the actual fucking hell, Mycroft?" John had turned sideways on his seat and was facing the government official, his face flushed with righteous anger.

Mycroft kept his calm outward appearance. The driver had been instructed not to harm John, even if the doctor attacked Mycroft. "Your feelings for my brother have become increasingly obvious over the last few months, though it was clear you didn't recognise them for what they were. That you would was inevitable." 

"And what? You want me to move out of the flat? Forget it. There's no reason for me to. I'm not the idiot that you and Sherlock think I am. I know he doesn't feel the same way. If he hadn't deleted Dickens, he'd probably say, 'Sentiment, bah humbug.'" John sat back in his seat, deflated. "I'll get over it, Mycroft. I can still be his friend."

Mycroft shook his head. "That's precisely what I don't want you to do." He let his face become more expressive than he normally allowed. "Don't try to get over it, John." He used the doctor's name on purpose, trying to make a more intimate connection. "Tell my brother how you feel."

John barked a laugh. "That would certainly end our friendship efficiently. Why do you dislike me so? Is it because I'm common?"

Mycroft smiled sadly. "I'm sorry I've given you that impression. I approve of you. Very much. You're good for my brother. He cares about you." The government official paused. "I daresay, he loves you, but he won't be the first to admit it. You, John, have to make the first move. Can you do that?"

The doctor looked at Mycroft with his mouth hanging open. His world had just been set on its end for the second time that day.


	2. Chapter 2

John took a deep breath and braced himself before stepping into the living room of 221B. When he did, he found Sherlock still working on his composition. The detecive looked up, his brows drawing together and his nose wrinkling at the sight John presented.

"You're dripping on the floor," Sherlock said, pointing at the doctor with his bow. His friend looked like his world had been upturned and set on end. Something had clearly happened to him while he was out. The detective observed John more closely. "You saw Mycroft, but something was bothering you before that. Your conversation with him actually made you feel better, but you're still worried about something." Sherlock placed his violin and bow down carefully on the desk and approached his friend, his head cocked to the side. "But what could that be?" He squinted, but said nothing further, simply looked at John as though he were dissecting him.

The doctor made himself ignore the uncomfortable feeling of being scrutinised by Sherlock Holmes. "I'm going to change into dry clothes and then you can ask my whatever questions you come up with." He hoped the detective asked questions. It would make starting the conversation he intended for them to have that much easier.

John trudged up to his room and removed his clothes with fingers stiff from the cold. He got dressed methodically, trying not to think about the upcoming conversation. For all that Mycroft was a genius, he didn't seem like the type to understand human emotions. What if the government official was horribly wrong? No, Mycroft surely knew his brother, even if he didn't understand another living soul on the planet and he had observed John's own feelings. The doctor stood tall, his back straight and looked at himself in the mirror over his dresser. He invaded Afghanistan. He could do this. John turns on his heel and marches from his room, down the stairs and back into the living room only to find Sherlock hasn't moved, not an inch and he still has that inquisitive look on his face.

Sherlock abruptly backed away, a look of horror on his face. "No! Whatever you're thinking, no."

"Sherlock?" John's heart beat hard in his chest. Had his friend deduced what he and Mycroft had talked about.

"If you don't say it, we can pretend you haven't figured it out, right?" The detective was talking so fast he was babbling. "Maybe you can delete it like I do, then you won't have to be disgusted when you look at me." Sherlock paced the room madly, gesticulating with one hand and pulling at his curls with the other.

And John, oh John is happy. He's overjoyed by his friend's distress because it seems to indicate that meddling Mycroft was correct and Sherlock does care for him.

The doctor stepped forward and grabbed Sherlock by the arms. "Stop it! Please," he added more gently. He longed to smooth the curls that are standing wild and dishevelled from where the detective had been pulling at them. "I'm not disgusted by anything, especially if you're saying what I think you are. I didn't leave earlier because of some realisation about how you feel about me, if that's what you're afraid of." Sherlock trembled in the doctor's grasp. "I left because, when I saw you there, working on your composition, I realised that I... am in love with you and always have been. I knew you didn't feel the same way, so I had to..." John broke off.

Sherlock was frozen, his expression unreadable. He stayed that way long enough to worry John. "Sherlock? Are you alright?"

After a few more moments, the detective broke out of his daze and lunged forward, kissing his flatmate. He pressed their lips together in a dry kiss at first, but when John's lips opened to him, Sherlock's tongue invaded his mouth. When they finally broke apart, the sound of delighted giggles filled the flat.


	3. Chapter 3

After a few moments, John and Sherlock's giggles fell quiet. In the silence, an awkwardness crept in. It insinuated itself between them in a way that it never had before. Neither of them liked it. Things were supposed to flow easily between them. The doctor blamed himself for it.

"Um, right." John smoothed the lapels of the detective's jacket. "I should have known before now, yeah?" He smiled nervously. "Don't... don't resent me for being an idiot. My good friend has told me I am one often enough."

Sherlock tilted his head to the side. "I never have resented it. Why would I start now?" He let just a touch of humour light up his eyes and his smile. "Besides, you're brighter than most."

"No, I don't think I am. This matters. I should have realised sooner how I felt about you, but I didn't because you're not..." John flushed pink with embarrassment. God, he was an idiot.

"A woman." Sherlock cupped the doctor's cheek. "But you figured it out anyway. When the possibility of such a thing was alien to how you thought of yourself, you still figured it out." He pressed his lips to John's forehead. "Are you going to run from it, John?" He held his breath, waiting on the answer.

"God, no. Never. I could never run from this, not now that I know you feel the same way." John realised that he was shaking. He was actually shaking with emotion. He went up on his tip toes and initiated another kiss. This one lasted even longer than the first and put the doctor in an uncomfortable state. He tried to shift away, to hide it.

Sherlock, of course, noticed. "You're aroused. How very flattering." The detective's tone was low and velvety.

This time, John flushed pink for an entirely different reason. "I'm sorry. I know we should probably take things slowly." Oh, how the doctor wanted to do anything but take things slowly. "I don't even know what I'm doing." He gave a self deprecating laugh.

"Ridiculous." Sherlock ground their hips together. "We're far passed the getting to know one another stage. We already know that we're eminently compatible. As two consenting adults in a long established relationship, yes, long established, I see no reason to take things slowly." He emphasised his point with another kiss and grind of his hips.

John dropped his forehead to Sherlock's shoulder. "Jesus. Yeah. Yeah, you're right, but what... I mean how..." His brain had stopped functioning what with Sherlock rubbing against him so lewdly.

"I'll be gentle with you since it's your first time," Sherlock quipped. At the look on the doctor's face, he started laughing. "We don't have to jump right to penetrative sex. We may never get there at all, but there are endless other things we can do." He took John's hand and led him to his bedroom. "Let me show you, John." Oh, he could spend a lifetime showing things to John, doing things to him, cataloging his reactions. It was going to be glorious, better than a locked room murder, better than five locked room murders.

"Absofuckinglutely," the doctor agreed, allowing himself to be pulled along in Sherlock's wake.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson heard a strange sound. It seemed to have come from upstairs. She turned the volume down on the telly. If there was an unwanted guest up in the boys' flat, she needed to know so she could call 999. They never seemed to think to do it themselves. As she listened, the type of sounds she was hearing became increasingly clear. She smiled to herself happily. It was about time the boys sorted things out between them. Oh, they did sound enthusiastic. Mrs. Hudson turned the telly up as loud as it would go and watched her show, a large grin on her face.


End file.
